


Stress Relief

by withthepilot



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Multi, POV First Person, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-31
Updated: 2010-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthepilot/pseuds/withthepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the opening night of Zach's play and Chris knows exactly what will help Zach to relax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Summer Luau at the pintofest community on LiveJournal. Prompt: girls.

Zach has his own dressing room. Sort of. I had my own dressing room for _Lieutenant of Inishmore_ , with a heavy mahogany door and a fancy gold placard with my name on it and everything. This door has splinters at the bottom and Zach's name is scrawled in Sharpie on a piece of loose-leaf paper that's stuck to the discolored wood with scotch tape.

Still, it's kind of exciting. That's my boyfriend's name on that door, and he's about to make his debut in _Angels in_ fucking _America_. And if I know Zach, which I do, he's got to be climbing the walls in there.

Fuck it. I've been staring at the door for five whole minutes now. There's no time to lose. I rap on the wood twice, pause, then rap another two times. It's the secret knock we devised back when we were doing press, so we'd always know exactly who was at the door. I can hear him inside the room, though I can't make out exactly what he says. There's a definite lilt to his voice that I recognize as surprise. He opens the door and gets a load of me standing there with my hands in my pockets and my shoulders hunched up to my ears. His jaw drops and I grin.

"Oh, my god," he says, his thick eyebrows lifting. "You're here. I mean...you came."

"Not yet. I'm saving that for later." I can't help myself; I reach up and run my hands over that sassy buzz cut of his. Shit, I've been waiting to do this for months. "God, Zach, your _hair_."

"Quit it. And get your ass in here. Shit."

Then the door shuts behind me and I'm in Zach's dressing room, which is pretty much a converted broom closet. He backs me up against the wall and kisses me before I can really look around or say anything. I've only just got my hands on his hips when he pulls back and looks at me with desperate, wide eyes.

"I'm freaking out," he says. "What the hell am I doing? Help me."

"I knew you'd be freaking out. That's why I'm here, unlike _someone_ who couldn't tear himself away from his precious movie with all those no-name hacks..."

"Shut up," Zach says. He laughs faintly and I smile, glad I could get him to feel something besides anxiety for a moment. He rubs his face against my neck and I shiver at the feel of his stubble, likely trimmed to what he deems the perfect length for this role. "You know I wanted to be there. Didn't I call and give you the best phone sex of your life?"

"Yeah...you did."

I rest my palm over Zach's fuzzy nape and close my eyes, let myself remember it. I was nervous as fuck, kind of like the way Zach is right now, except more tightly wound, unable to do much of anything beyond my usual M.O. of curling up in a chair and biting my knuckles, grunting at anyone who dare speak to me. When Zach called, he instructed me to lock the door to my dressing room, lie down on the floor, and spread my legs. Then he told me all the filthy, amazing things he'd do to me if I calmed down and got through the show. And if we got a stellar review? Forget it. He promised to tongue fuck me from here to Saturn. I came so hard that night, just from Zach's voice and my own two hands, that I couldn't _help_ but be relaxed for the performance.

Zach, on the other hand? He's a special boy with special needs. Tactile. Giving. And there are certain things about him that most people don't know—like what it takes to get him to truly relax.

"Chris," he says now, muffled into my neck, "I don't know if I'm up for...you know. I mean, we could try, but..."

"I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do, Zach."

Zach takes a deep breath and smiles tentatively at me. "I'm just so happy you're here," he says. He kisses me again, deeper this time, and I reach up to cup his jaw, running my thumb over his cheekbone. Zach catches my wrist and turns his head to kiss the lifeline that runs across my palm. He nuzzles my fingers and inhales.

I can tell the exact moment he notices it. His grip tightens just a fraction on my wrist and his nostrils flare for a half-second. When he looks at me again, his eyes are suddenly dark and knowing.

"Your fingers," he whispers. "Chris...who?"

"Just ran into a mutual friend in the lobby."

That's a lie, of course. The fact that Rachel Nichols is waiting outside Zach's dressing room is completely thanks to me and my devious master plan. It's been a while since I saw her last, but the three of us fooled around once or twice during Trek filming and I was about ninety-seven percent positive she'd be up for reliving the experience. I gave her a call, my agent scored her a ticket for opening night, and here we are now. My fingers still reek of her pussy from when I fucked her with my hand in the men's room, and Zach looks dangerously close to shoving said fingers into his mouth, sniffing and mouthing at them like they're dripping with ambrosia.

Rachel picks the perfect moment to knock on the door. Zach and I both yell "Come in!" so quickly that we're almost in unison. She walks in briskly and closes the door behind her, smiling at us all bright and sunny and not so much like someone who just got fingered in a public restroom. Or maybe she does look exactly like that someone. Either way, she's radiant and she smells of jasmine, sterile hand soap, and sex.

"Hey, Broadway," she says, addressing Zach. He steps away from me and looks astonished as he fixates on Rachel, wandering over to her for a kiss and a warm hug. Zach looks dazed; he's still got the scent of Rachel dancing in his nostrils, working its way through his system. Rachel's oblivious, giving Zach a squeeze and beaming at him. "I can't even believe I'm here. This is the hottest ticket in town tonight."

"It's off-Broadway, technically," Zach mumbles. He smiles and shakes his head to get out the illicit thoughts. "Oh, my god, though. I...wow! It's so good to see you, Rach."

"You too." Rachel gives him an impish smile, the one that will always remind me of Jim Kirk's green pseudo-girlfriend. "Chris has been worried about you. He thought I might be able to help."

Zach gapes over at me and I have to smother a smile into my fist. Like I said, there are a lot of things I know about Zach that no one else does. And his occasional predilection for the opposite sex happens to be one of them. He also digs giving women head more than any straight man I've ever met. I've never strayed with a woman on my own, and I'm pretty sure he hasn't either—but that's probably because we enjoy sharing so much.

"God," Zach says, already licking his lips. He looks a little overwhelmed but I have no doubt that he'll catch up soon enough. "I can't believe you two."

"What? You need stress relief." I smirk and move behind Rachel, running my hands over her waist. She's a tiny thing right now, much slimmer than she was when we filmed Trek. Rachel always manages to look damn good, though. She lets out a sigh and she's probably laying it on a bit thick from the get-go, but hell, it totally does it for me. I firm up my grip on her sides. "Rachel here is ready and willing to provide some much-needed pre-game therapy."

"I have to be on stage in forty-five minutes," Zach protests weakly.

"Plenty of time," I respond. "Come on." Rachel's wearing a slinky tube-like dress with straps on top. It's easy to ease the fabric up her thighs until the hem is gathered above her hips and some of her delectable parts are exposed for Zach's eyes. Rachel was wearing underwear earlier but she's bare now; she must have ditched them. Smart girl. Her heady scent hits me with its full force and now I'm reeling a bit, too, as I slip my hand between her legs. Rachel lets out a small moan the moment I touch her. She's still soaking. Fuck. I try to keep my voice steady. "I got her good and wet for you, Zach. So you can flex those jaw muscles, baby."

Zach swallows thickly but he doesn't need much more convincing. I can see it. "Just like this?"

"Unless you've got a bed hidden in the wall that we can't see," Rachel says, smirking. I bend to suck a kiss into the elegant curve of her neck. She gasps and runs her fingers through my hair, her fingernails lightly scratching my scalp. Feels good. She whispers, "Too delicate to get on your knees, Zach?" and I nearly groan at the sound of her voice, the pretty fucking picture she paints. I knew she'd be perfect for this—for us.

I look up just in time to see Zach drop to the floor before Rachel, his hands slowly roaming up her legs. This is exactly what he needs; I can see it. He's all set to fucking _worship_ her.

"Hold her steady," he instructs. His voice is hoarse and husky already. I loop my arms beneath Rachel's, pulling her against my body.

"Way ahead of you, man."

Zach eases Rachel's legs apart as he moves toward their apex. He breathes her in, the musky, mellifluous, just-fucked smell of her, and his dark eyelashes fall heavily against the tops of his cheeks. He's so fucking hot when he's like this—totally caught up in the moment, taking it all in like a man possessed. I watch over Rachel's shoulder as he nuzzles her inner thigh and exhales warm air over her cunt. I wonder if he can smell me there, too, because I _was_ there, just a little while ago. God, she felt fucking amazing around my fingers, so slick and tight—and I know that Zach's had his first taste because Rachel's already moaning and melting against me.

I feel a weight on my leg. It's Zach's hand, gripping me just above my ankle. I catch his eye and he offers me a half-grin before he dives in to work his magic. He's probably out of practice, but if Rachel's answering groan is any indication, it's just like riding a bike. I'm hard as a rock in my jeans and I have to get a better look, so I pull Rachel closer to me and peer down at the proceedings. It's fucking obscene: flashes of Zach's pink tongue as he laps hungrily at Rachel's folds, holding her open with two fingers. He moans lowly and tilts his face up, the edge of his tongue curling as it slides up to her clit. Just then, Rachel lets out another loud, desperate noise, and a sharp pain at the back of my head tells me her fingers are clenching in my hair, pulling hard. I bend to kiss and nip at her neck, though I only get about five seconds into it before she's pulling me into a fierce kiss. Rachel bites at my lips as Zach's thumb creeps beneath my pant leg to caress my ankle bone, which is weirdly hot. I moan into Rachel's mouth and tilt my hips against her ass for some relief, though not too much. If I come in my pants, I don't have another pair handy.

Rachel breaks the kiss to grunt an instruction to Zach— _Faster, Quinto_ —and then she starts to pant as he obliges her. I can't even see what he's doing anymore; his face is so buried in her pussy. His jaw must be getting the workout of its life. Rachel tips her head back against my shoulder and I lick the shell of her ear teasingly. I remember it's one of her spots. Her breathing gets more erratic and she starts to shake. She's so fucking close. I drop one of my arms down to hold down one side of her hips as Zach presses against the other. I consider cupping my hand over her mouth so the entire theater doesn't get wind of this, but shit, I want to hear her fall apart. And she does, so beautifully, so loudly, her hips straining underneath our hands as Zach licks her up and down, playing her like a fucking viola.

It's not enough, really. I want more; we all do. Zach and I haven't played with a woman in so long and I want to make the most of it. He comes up for some air but I make it brief, cupping the back of his head and pushing him back between her legs again.

"You're not done," I growl.

Zach moans and digs his blunt fingernails into my anklebone as he goes back to work. He obviously loves being on the receiving end of my order. I try to look down at him but I'm distracted by Rachel's heaving chest, her breasts lifting as her back arches away from my torso. And fuck, I want to play, too. It's dirty pool, I know it, but I take the opportunity to pull down one of those flimsy straps on Rachel's dress, exposing her breast. I pinch her pert nipple lightly, toying with it, until Rachel whimpers and tugs sharply at my hair again.

"Fucker," she hisses. I laugh against her neck.

"Come on, baby, you've got one more in you. His tongue is amazing, isn't it? Not to mention his hands... You're just going to fall to pieces for us, aren't you?"

And on that note, I reach down between Rachel's legs and slide one of my own fingers over her labia. By this point, she's absolutely dripping, molten hot, and between that and the rough slide of Zach's tongue as it laves over my finger, I'm about ready to burst out of my jeans. I groan hungrily and push two fingers into Rachel as Zach fastens his lips to her clit and that's it, she's coming again, even harder than before, her voice absolutely wrecked as she writhes and pulses.

I help Rachel into the sole chair in the room once she's calmed down; help her adjust her dress strap and lean down to kiss her again, all gentleman-like. Then I'm about to suck my fingers clean when Zach's strong arms close around my waist and yank me down to the floor. I barely have a moment to register what's happening before my jeans and underwear are pushed down to my ankles and my fingers are in Zach's mouth as he vacuums up the lingering taste of Rachel. I'm so fucking hard, leaking a puddle against my stomach, and I need to feel Zach, I need _something_. It's a struggle to get Zach's jeans down his hips—he's not yet in costume—but the payoff is glorious when I finally feel his cock moving against mine, the delicious friction making my eyes roll back.

"Fuck, Zach," I choke out. He looks predatory, hovering over me, his mouth and chin shiny with Rachel's juices, and fuck, it's the height of debauchery. Rachel, bless her heart, seems content to watch. She purrs in her seat, not two feet away.

"Fuck him into the floor, Zach," she says. Okay, I fucking _love_ her.

Zach kisses me hard as he thrusts, our cocks sliding together at a pace that sends hot bursts of pleasure through all of my limbs and extremities. I've been hard for at least an hour now, and I can't hold back anymore—not with Zach's tongue plundering my mouth like he fucking _owns_ it and the low rumble of Rachel's voice as she looks on, probably still throbbing between her legs from her orgasms, and the pungent smell of sex all around me, everywhere. My cock twitches against my stomach and I pull Zach closer, clutching his shirt. It's so good, just not quite enough, but then I feel his finger sliding down to my exposed hole, circling it slowly then pushing in—a wet finger, wet with _Rachel_ , and...

My orgasm is like a fucking nuclear bomb. Total whiteout. Utter decimation. That is to say, it's really, really _good_.

When I come back to myself, Zach is lying on top of me and kissing me lazily. It's sticky between our stomachs and he's so relaxed that I can tell he came, too. Wish I'd seen it. I run my hand over his fuzzy scalp and sigh, nuzzling the side of his mouth.

"Feeling better?" I murmur. He laughs and nods faintly.

"You're full of good ideas."

"Tell me about it." I turn my head to smile over at Rachel, but the chair is empty. "Where'd she...?"

"Ladies room," Zach says. He smirks. "She said the sight of you coming gave her a bit of an aftershock and she needed to go freshen up. Can't say I blame her."

I drop my head back and smile, feeling warm all over. Soon, Zach will have to go onstage and I'll meet up with Rachel to watch the show. And maybe when all is said and done, we can go back to Zach's apartment and do it all over again.

Zach prods my side. "You're already thinking about later, aren't you?"

"I'm thinking how you're going to be so brilliant on that stage that I'll shit my pants, is what I'm thinking. Seriously, pant-shitting levels of awe."

"Chris," Zach sighs. "Don't be vulgar."

"I'm never vulgar."

"You devised a plan to ease my nerves with cunnilingus. I'd say that borders on vulgar."

I bat my lashes innocently. "It worked, didn't it? I helped."

Zach scoffs and hides his smile against my neck, which is as close to a confession as I'm going to get. It's good enough for me.


End file.
